Shadow of a Threat
by JadedFire
Summary: Grand Admiral Thrawn is earthbound. He has been ZAPPED into our galaxy. And Ariah Trin, the woman who found him smoldering on her porch, is growing more and more wary of the heartless villain...
1. Finding Thrawn

Disclaimer: I don't own SW and I never will-so there!

Summary: Ariah Trin is a normal young woman, independant and having just moved out from under her parents' wings. The world was hers-until she met Thrawn, the evil Imperial warlord from Timothy Zahn Thrawn trilogy.

Note: This is nothing like Rebound, though similar in the beginning. It has a much different plot besides "bad-guy from book lands on earth and becomes good".

A/N: I've never really been good on Thrawn, and most of my Thrawn fanfics I end up deleting.  I guess I don't feel worthy enough as a writer to have him in my stories.

**Shadow of a Threat**

"Sir, Section 4 has been isolated and cut off from the surrounding area. The Galistons are retreating."

"Good. They will not bother to regroup."

"Admiral—something just came out of hyperspace. Sector 002. Its traveling at eight thousand knots!"

"Shields—!"

KABOOM!

_Somewhere in Kentucky…_

Ariah Trin looked up at her watch. Ten fifteen. She needed to keep jogging for at least ten more minutes if she wanted to keep herself in top condition. She would start running after ten minutes was up, then she would go for an hour down Sharks Road, and then turn down to Shapp Street, where her cozy house was sitting below a cozy hill corner.

She was twenty-five, just starting to live completely by herself, and enjoyed taking long walks at night during violent thunderstorms.

Overhead, a bird cawed to her, and she smiled as a hawk circled in the air. Then another one circled. Another one.

Looking closer, she realized they weren't hawks, but _vultures_ circling prey. And they were near her house. Her house which was isolated from everyone else's.

With a gasp, she ran as hard as her agile legs could. She didn't like buzzards. Never had.

At first, as she glanced out into her yard, she could see nothing. Nothing at all. But that was when she saw the badly injured figure on her porch, smoke rising from off charred clothing.

She ran up to him, praying that God would keep him alive.

He was wearing a white uniform reminiscient of Grand Admiral Thrawn's in Star Wars: the Thrawn Trilogy. His skin was painted a dark blue, and his hair was blue-black. But there was something about him that was different from other Star Wars fans who dressed up in costumes. Also, why would a mere fan be here on her porch bleeding and unconscious? Why would someone put a dressed up SW fan here anyway, if he had been carried?

Suddenly his eyes opened, and she saw the dull red glow of them. Her breath chilled within her, and her heart refused to beat.

No. No. It can't be. I'm hallucinating, she thought, panicking on the inside but remaining calm on the outside.

He said something in another language—Aurebresh? Huttese? She couldn't be certain. She had never heard such a language before. Then he slipped into unconsciousness.

_An Imperial officer from Timothy Zahn's book is on my porch. If he is the genius of the books, then we're in big trouble. I must never allow him to see my art. Who would want to see my art_ _anyway_… she continued babbling to herself, fear creeping up and making her tremble. She hadn't thought Thrawn was scary in the books, and had even thought he was kind of cute, but now she realized what she had on her porch, and it sure wasn't a cuddly puppy.

_Since he is just a character, and not real, I can kill him. Besides, I'll be doing the world a favor,_ she thought. But then she realized what would take place if she _did _kill Thrawn. Even if she was able to hide the dirty deed from the rest of the world, it would still haunt her, and each time he was assassinated by Rukh in the books, she would realize she was the one who killed him. She had never killed anyone or anything and decided not to allow that to change. And besides, what if all that happened in SW was true and George Lucas was a prophet?

_Yeah, right_, she thought as she checked Thrawn over. Because he was so "human" it was easy to forget about the threat of him, and she looked at him like a nurse does a patient, though she wasn't a nurse.

She couldn't really tell at first glance how bad he was injured, so she rushed into her house, grabbed the phone in the kitchen, and dialed 911.


	2. Scared of Shadows

Disclaimer: I don't own SW and never will. I'm just playing with the characters.

**Chapter Two**

The doctors and nurses at Little Rock Hospital refused to believe it could be Thrawn whom they worked on. It was impossible after all for something unreal to become real, and it didn't make sense for the patient to be a _Star Wars_ villain of the EU.

All refusal to see the blue skinned man as Thrawn was refuted when they had to perform x-rays on him. Everything was similar inside him, but very different from the human body. In fact, they were almost afraid to operate on him since he was an alien.

Anyway, he had a few broken ribs and a small compound fracture on his right forearm, splinters of bone poking out from the skin. He also had two degree burns in some areas from being blasted into the world of humans.

Ariah worked as hard as she could to pay for the tremendous hospital bill. It seemed instead of hiding in a corner because Mister Red Eye was earthbound, the hospital demanded higher price because Thrawn was 1) a Star Wars character and 2) an alien.

She didn't think it was fair. For two weeks she even asked charity for him. The first time had been a mistake when asking who her loved one was. Some people had read the _Thrawn trilogy_ by Tim Zahn, and had either laughed or walked away when she said it was Grand Admiral Thrawn. Later, she ended up saying it was a random person she just wanted to help. It was better _not_ to give details about "Oh, I found this blue alien from _Star Wars_ laying on my porch. Y'know—the Imperial dude from the EU, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I'm asking for donations to pay the hospital bill, 'cause the doctors want to bankrupt me 'cause he's an alien. Yep."

It was slow collecting money, paying the medical insurance (being zapped into another dimension? How does one pay for _that_ disaster?), and keeping record of her own bills which needed payment. Several times she called her mother and father to tell them about her rough situation, making sure _not_ to tell them about Thrawn.

……………….

Ariah Trin looked up from the book she was reading. _Heir to the Empire._ Thrawn had been an egotistical jerk, and heartless. So far she had encountered no warmth to his character in the books. Now she read them countless times, sometimes she stayed up reading the entire trilogy over and over again, trying to grasp his character fully.

Online people compared him to Adolf Hitler, Saddam Hussein, and Sherlock Holmes. She read debates on Star Wars fansites pertaining to his evil ways, and had been shocked and horrified to learn he had committeed genocide on an alien race, and had slaughtered many more innocent people. EU character Ysanne Isard, an evil director of Imperial intelligence, had called Thrawn a "terror of the Unknown Regions".

Scared at the prospect of this evil man residing in the nearest hospital, she had trouble going to sleep at night, and when she did he was oftentimes questioning her in that snake-voice of his. Or he was lazily pointing a finger at her, Rukh launching himself at her, assassin blade digging into her throat.

_I'm scared of Shadows,_ she told herself for the hundredth time. She knew she was being paranoid, but she couldn't help it. She tried to tell herself that though Grand Admiral Thrawn was a heartless murderer, he wouldn't just kill or manipulate everyone in his way. Would he?

_He got exiled from his people by trying to _protect _them, _she told herself. _No,_ the argument came,_ he was exiled because of his actions against an unkown aggressor. He's vicious!_

She felt herself nodding off and fell asleep, dreaming of Thrawn aiming a pistol at her and coolly pulling the trigger…

She awoke in a sweat, grabbing the phone and calling the hospital.

"Everglade Hospital. How may I help you?" the receptionist said.

"May I talk to Dr. Milstan?" she asked, holding a hand over her fluttering heart.

Pause. Her heart felt as though it was doing acrobatic wonders behind her breastbone, doing crazy twists and somersaults.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist said. "He's not available at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Uh, yeah. I want an update on the alien I found. My phone number is," Ariah listed off her phone number, "Thank you."

"Thank you. Have a nice day!" _Click_.

She leaned back against the couch, glancing at the clock.

Three in the afternoon. She hadn't slept barely twenty hours throughout the week. It seemed like Thrawn had been haunting her for ages and not just this week.

_At least it wasn't the _Emperor_ I found._


	3. Sleeping In

To cycloneozgirl: I am most definitely continuing this. I love/hate Thrawn, and the story has a certain question about his character. Thanks for your review!

To Twylight Elf: Heya, Sis! Yes, this is MUCH lighter than Rebound. But I like Jake/Sauron a LOT better than Thrawn, though I like pestering the Grand Admiral. (rubs hands together and cackles with glee)

To Saber Girls: Thanks for your review! I started this wondering where it would go, and though I'm STILL not quite sure, I'm having fun working on it.

Disclaimer: I own not SW nor Thrawn, who I love/hate as an SW character.

**Chapter Three**

The phone rang early the next morning, and Dr. Milstan told Ariah that Thrawn was doing great. He was healing _faster_ than a human and would be out of the hospital in no time at all. But there was a problem as how to keep his presence secret from the SW fans.

"I think it's inevitable that they would find out," she told him, blinking her eyes sleepily. Again, she had had little sleep and all she had had was nightmares.

"Yes. I suppose you're right. Anyway, I have to go back to my patient. My advice is: Don't worry about Thrawn. He's harmless, weaponless, and as far as I know he's way too intelligent to start killing people off the cuff."

He proceeded to soothe her anxieties by telling her all Thrawn had done had been part of war. War was filled with tragedies, and it effected more than the soldiers fighting it, but the women and children. She wanted to cry out, "But he _slaughtered_ them when there wasn't war!" but she held her peace.

She ran a hand through her hair. She knew what she had to do. She had to meet Thrawn face-to-face and while he was up and about.

"When will he be leaving the hospital?"

"Hopefully soon. The hospital is having trouble keeping him secret. One RN ran home squealing about Everglade Hospital's alien patient," the doctor said, then added, "She was a fangirl of the character."

I liked Thrawn, too—when he wasn't real. Now I have to deal with him in person.

She nodded her head. Sleep. She needed sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy.

"I want to...um, see him sometime. When are the visiting hours?" she asked.

"We haven't allowed anyone to visit him so far, though it's inevitable that his presence would be known soon. Also, I don't believe he wishes for anyone to see him other than me and a few nurses. He likes to be left alone with his own thoughts."

"I see. Yeah. He tends to do that a lot." A chill went down her spine.

"He doesn't say much. Very polite when he _does_ speak. He has a pleasant voice. Deep. Rich. Well cultivated. He speaks proper English—or Basic. Whichever one," he said, and added, "Would you really want to see him? I'll tell him about your request."  
"Don't tell him I'm scared witless of him, all right?"

"Of course not. Though he'll figure it out anyway right off the bat. He's like that. One day a nurse came to visit him and he told me later he could tell she was scared witless of him even though she had been known to be a terrific actress. That says a lot about Thrawn. He's almost psychic. It's freaky."  
"Yeah. Um, look Doc—I'd better go."

"Take care. Rest and don't worry about him."

_Sure, Doc. Easier said than done._ She hung up the phone. Sleep. It called to her. Beckoned to her. Sleep. Rest. Wonderful rest.

She closed her eyes and fell into dreamless sleep upon the couch.

She awoke at sunset, the sun casting warm golden rays through the windows of her house. She groaned and looked at the clock on the mantle. Six o'clock. She had slept for only four hours, but it felt much longer.

She had a bad taste in her mouth, as though hundreds of tiny critters had crawled into her mouth and had _died_ there or used it as a commode. Not to mention the fact she had a full bladder.

After relieving herself and brushing the innards of her oral cavity with toothbrush and toothpaste, she headed over to the kitchen to fix something to eat. She was starving.

And _that_ was when she heard her radio alarm clock go off in her room. She had slept through the entire day and she had to be at work by seven thirty!

Panicking, she threw on some clothes to head over to the grocery store where she worked as a cashier. It was a tiny store in the middle of the downtown area in Paducah with an antique old England sign which said, _Food Easy._ She had pointed out to the manager that it also read, _Easy to fool._ The outside of the grocery store looked like a pleasant bakery, but inside was mouldy bread, bad cuts of meat, and rotten (or nearly rotten) vegetables. All sold at the cheapest price.

She was about to head out the door to work, but the phone, ringing, stopped her. She gave a weary sigh, knowing it was probably Dr. Milstan. She would have to tell him she was about to go out the door.

She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she said.

"I believe you wanted to see me. Would three in the evening be fine?"

Thrawn. It was _his_ voice. It sounded much different from what she had thought it would sound like. More deep and fluid.

She was speechless for a moment.

"You didn't have plans for the evening, am I correct?" Thrawn continued.

Her cheeks flushed red.

"Yes—_No_. I mean…three is good. Three's great. Um, I have to go to work. See you." She finished abruptly, hanging up the phone, the urge to say, _sir_ stuck in her throat. He carried a load of authority in that voice…

She didn't finish her thought and walked out the door, knowing she would have to meet Thrawn.


	4. Meeting Thrawn

To** gatermage: **Yeah, if I were here I'd be panicking, too. Especially after this chapter.

To **Lynn: **I hope you enjoy this chapter. I describe Thrawn a bit differently than other authors. I get tired of him looking too--_normal_--in fanart, art, etc. He still looks human in the face, just not so ordinary.

To **Katharina: **Thanks for the compliment:-) I hope you like this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own SW

**Chapter Four**

"You're preoccupied by something. Are you still taking charity for that…um…patient you told me about?" Charlotte Delfron asked Ariah over the counter. She was a coworker.

Ariah flushed, knowing she had been staring into space for a good time now, watching the golden heat of the sun striking the pavement. It was nearly time for her to clock out, which, while she knew it was best to talk to him in person she was also very reluctant to do so. She had had a sufficient amount of difficulty focusing, not to mention frequent bouts of diarrhea due to her nerves. All because of one meeting. One meeting she would never forget.

"I'm fine." She faked a smile, though her stomach was twisting into all sorts of knots. "Um, I'm still accepting charity for the patient. Trying to pay the medical insurance is tough. Near impossibility. I have to visit him today at three in the evening…. Um, are there any really redeemable traits in Thrawn? I mean, like he isn't lying, manipulating, or decieving anyone, etc?"

Charlotte let out an exaggerated sigh, much to Ariah's annoyance. She had read Timothy Zahn's _Thrawn_ trilogy herself and was a big fan of the author.

"Ariah, you're jumping to shadows. What makes you think _that_? There are _many_ redeemable traits in Thrawn. He doesn't needlessly kill his men, he"—

"What about Chris Petierson? What about the fact he was using only a small percentage of the Imperial troops and didn't want to lose _them_ because they were _all_ he had? He didn't care for the clones."

"I think you need to get a grip. Pellaeon said in the later books that Thrawn's government would be one of order, unity, and of common purpose. Thrawn's plans were full of altruism. The whole reason he fought the New Republic was to whip them in fighting shape against the threats of the Unknown Regions. That's all. His goal was a noble one, to unite the galaxy against the 'hundred threats' Parck spoke of in _Visions_."

Ariah didn't say anything in reply to her friend's words for a moment. But something nagged at her mind until she had to release it verbally.

"What if he was lying? What if he had decieved the Chiss all along and only wanted to bring them under a totalitarian rule? How would one truly discern what is true and what is false?" Ariah asked bleakly as she clocked out.

Charlotte frowned, her expression grim. Ariah felt as though a Shadow had fallen into the store, a ghost of unreality and concept, nothing more, but dwelling between two worlds. She shivered.

"To quote Mara: 'That's a cheery idea.' You'd better go. It's a quarter till three now," Charlotte said.

Ariah hastily gathered herself up and headed with a determination she didn't feel to Everglade Hospital. It felt surreal, as the last three weeks had been. Thrawn was on earth. He was real. Breathing. He used to be just a concept on paper, but something had made him_ real_.

The drive was too short for comfort, though she also wanted to get the meeting out of the way. She had split ideas about Thrawn. One part of her wanted to believe he had been essentially a good guy in the wrong place. But the other part spoke of other things. Things that _seemed_ good, but were, in fact, _foul_.

As she drove into the parking lot she breathed a quick prayer, hoping to gain some strength from above. She didn't.

She pulled into a slot and, killing the motor, scrambled out stiffly. As she approached the building, she couldn't help but feel as though she was being watched. And the sky was dark with gray stormclouds. Terrific.

_Paranoia. That's all it is. Perhaps I need to visit a shrink,_ she thought, and made her way to the entrance.

To her surprise, she didn't have to tell the desk receptionist what she was doing there.

"He's in Room 303. Third level. Have a nice day."  
Ariah realized she hadn't even known which room Thrawn was in until now. In fact, this was the first time she had stepped foot in Everglade Hospital since the day the alien had been hospitalized. The floors were polished, and random ferns and plants served as light décor here and there. There were a few paintings, two still lifes and one abstract.

All corners of the hospital were smooth, so smooth the interior should have belonged in a sci-fi movie. The atmosphere was calm where she was at, and for a moment she felt her nerves ease up a little. Then she spotted the black and silver elevator, and her nerves returned. She tried to calm the heart pounding in her chest, the chills running down her spine, the feeling she had of the whole thing being a dream.

_You aren't supposed to be real,_ she grated out in her head, glad Thrawn couldn't hear her.

Room 303. She took a deep breath and released it slowly before knocking on the door rather tentatively. "Come in," a voice from within ordered casually.

She swallowed nervously and entered. The yellow walls were covered with pieces of artwork. Some had to have been either extremely expensive or had been bought at a yard sale. Evidently the doctor had seen the need to make Thrawn feel more at home. But this was not what drew her attention. Her focus was upon the man, the alien, the character—seated near a hospital bed, the bed with covers neatly folded so no wrinkle showed.

He was very attractive she had to admit. He had an angular, exotic face, which spoke of hidden sensuality. His eyes were slanted a little and almost cat-shaped. The eyebrows were thick, and his hair was thick and wavy, blue highlights shimmering in the light like a sea of stars. His build was muscular, but more slender than what she, and possibly most of his fans, had imagined.

He wore a black shirt, black pants, and black boots. Black made him look even more attractive and alluring, and he had an aura of regality as was befitting for a Grand Admiral. For a moment she nearly forgot what she had come there for, as though a spell had been cast upon her and she had to break it.

She felt her heart nearly stop beating while she realized the eyes, those exotic ruby-red eyes which glowed like those of a jungle cat's, were fixed on her. They were like two orbs of red fire within his sockets, two orbs that hungrily ate up visual information…

"Um, I…I just wanted to, uh, check on you." She knew she sounded uncertain, but those eyes were turning her blood into ice water.

He favored her with a smile—but his eyes remained unsmiling.

"I'm actually quite all right now." His eyes moved graciously away, the fierce, burning glow upon a bronze sculpture of a Western cowboy on a bucking bronco. But his thoughts were inward. "Though it is disturbing to know I am stranded on a planet with no space ports or shipyards."

Ariah was about to say something when the red orbs flashed over to her.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she could hear the faint sound of rain pitter-pattering on the roof of the hospital, as though an ominous omen.

Outside the window, she could see the dark blue, churning stormclouds of a violent thunderstorm. Lightning arced, crackled, brightened the room.

Ariah felt as though _she_ was inside a story for a moment, and then it went away.

"It's only a little bit of rain," she murmured. She feared storms ever since the day a tornado had landed in her yard. Torrents of rain poured down after her statement. She frowned.

There was a flash of lightning, a sharp _crack_, and the lights went out, leaving her alone in the dark with Thrawn.


	5. Meeting Thrawn Continued

To ** Twylight Elf: **I am oh so glad I changed that tornado scene. Yes, that did drown Thrawn out a bit, didn't it?

To **BGTom: **Keep guessing... :-) And thanks so much for putting me on your favorites list. :blush:

To **Katharina: **I'm glad you enjoyed it and thought the end brilliant. I'm very hopeful this chapter turned out just as well.

To **Lynn: **I'm happy you liked my Thrawn.

To **cycloneogirl: **I agree with you that Thrawn certainly had some nobility in his goals. Though he's evil, he is certainly intriguing and more than a two dimensional villain...I agree with you on that one too. History is indeed written by the winners. It's what makes both SW and LotR aggravating sometimes >-( I won't go into that...As for him learning he is a fictional character I'm sure he wouldn't take it very well.

To **Aryna**: I tend to work more on Thrawn being evil than good, though perhaps he will turn out good. At the moment I like him as he is. Charming, intelligent, but cold and sinister. Anyway, I'm glad you like my story:-)

To **gatermage: **Nah. I'm just letting her suffer. :rubs hands together and cackles with glee:

Disclaimer: I don't own SW

**Chapter Five**

For a split second Ariah felt as though her heart was going to pound out of her chest as the room was enveloped in pitch black darkness. It was one thing to be standing in the presence of Thrawn in a room filled with light. It was quite another to be standing alone in the dark with him.

All around thunder crashed, and outside she could here the whispers of rain.

In the stillness of the room, and in the deep black Thrawn's slanting cat-shaped eyes glowed, bleeding pools of flame among the darkness.

Her breath caught in her throat. All time seemed to halt in the room, temperature dropping drastically. Blood rushed through her head, her heart drumming. It seemed deafeningly loud next to the screaming silence.

In a split second the emergency lights flicked on.

"Interesting weather," Thrawn commented dryly, choosing that moment to stand up at his full height.

He was somewhat taller than what she had thought he would be, and if it had been harder to talk to him before, it was even more so now. Everything about him was intimidating. And it wasn't just the eyes. It was his superiority, the level of intelligence which made her feel like a stupid cow.

"Yes. It is interesting," she agreed, voice soft. "I've…hated…storms since I was a small child. I was in a rough one. A twister. I mean—it landed in my yard. My mom had to take me to the cellar with my brothers."

"I have seen many rough storms in my own life," Thrawn said quietly, and she wondered if he meant it in a metaphorical sense or literally. She decided to take it literally.

He looked like he wanted to add to that statement, but decided against it. Abruptly, as though the topic bothered him to some extent (though he probably didn't care), he changed the subject.

"So. You _only_ wanted to check on me?"

"I wanted to learn more about you. You intrigue me."

"You are afraid of me."  
She grimaced mentally.

"It's a bit cold in here," she said, folding her arms across her chest and rubbing her forearms. They _were_ somewhat cold.

"Indeed."  
She knew he could see right through her attempts, knew her fear. He had an advantage to her and knew it.

"So you like art," she said, "I wanted to be an artist ever since I was very young." That sounded highly lame but she couldn't exactly shove it back down her throat now that it was exposed to Thrawn's ears.

"I love art, yes. In all its forms."

She shivered, remembering how he used it.

"I like most types. I don't like abstract very much. It's too chaotic and most of the time abrasive."

She was being blunt but she didn't care.

"Some do not understand it or appreciate it for what it is."

Thrawn had something about him—an aura—which both charmed and repulsed her. He was an intriguing puzzle, a mystery, and she found herself coming slowly closer to him as though drawn silently by command.

"It's, um, just like looking at confusing splatters of paint, strokes, and, uh, inky scribbles. To me." Oh _why_ had she said that? She blushed and shut her mouth. How many more times would she have to put her foot in her mouth? She was humiliated and wished the meeting to be over real soon. Though somehow she was reluctant to leave so quick.

Thrawn gave the slightest shrug of the shoulders.

"Everyone has their preferences."

"So…um…what have you learned about our…psychology…so far from the art?"

"Why would you want to know?" Thrawn returned casually, but there was something about his voice which sent shivers up and down her spine.

If she had put one foot in her mouth, now she had two feet in her mouth. He had kept that aspect of art secret in the books, and the only person he had revealed that certain talent to had been Captain Pellaeon. She had just touched sacred territory without knowing it. And _how_ was she supposed to answer his question? _"You're a fictional character and I read about it in a book?"_ That would sound lame and besides, he wouldn't believe her. Thrawn was a creature of logic and science. It was illogical to be seemingly alive and breathing while being unreal. And it wasn't scientific.

"Nevermind." This certainly was not her day. "It isn't important."

Thrawn cocked a blue-black brow, but didn't say anything to her.

There was a quite long and rather uncomfortable pause.

"The storm has calmed down a bit," Ariah said, trying to fill in the screaming silence.

"It has indeed."

The door opened at that moment, and suddenly she could _breathe_ again.

A nurse stepped in to check on Thrawn, writing down everything on a clipboard and then left as quick as she had come.

"Um, have you done any works of art?" she asked, wishing she could step out of the room just as easily as the RN had.

"Some. I confess I am not much of an artist or craftsman. I prefer to study art than create my own."

"I like to look at it. Though sometimes it _does_ confuse me," Ariah said in reply, looking up at the clock on the wall.

She was astonished to find she had been there for only thirty minutes. She felt like she had been in Thrawn's presence for an eternity.

"You are torn between leaving and staying. You are still afraid, but are simultaneously fascinated by my person."

_Talk about reading me like a book,_ she thought.

She took a few steps back, keeping a safe distance away.

"What makes you believe I'm attracted to you?" she demanded. But it was true. She was attracted to the blue-skinned devil. There was more to him than met the eye.

"It's fairly obvious," he stated in glacial calm.

_He's trying to get me to run. Probably would enjoy it, too. Well, I'm not going to go anywhere!_ At first she believed this was what he was doing, and then she realized he was toying with her emotions, trying to find which button to push. Testing her.

"But if you choose to deny it, then by all means go right on ahead," he continued.

She frowned, but the next thing he said caught her off guard.

"You have managed to capture _my_ interest."

She had?

"Yes. It has been so long since I have talked to someone who has some appreciation for art. I am also fascinated by the fact you were afraid of me, yet wanted to see me anyway."

She found her cheeks turning red and she looked away. She wanted to deny _those_ things, but she couldn't.

"Perhaps we should see each other again soon. I enjoyed our meeting."


End file.
